


3. Reset

by Amorette



Series: Ten Things That Never Happened to Willie Loomis [3]
Category: Dark Shadows - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-27 08:03:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12076947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorette/pseuds/Amorette
Summary: How would it have been different?





	3. Reset

**Author's Note:**

> Jessica Loomis is a post-series canon character married to Willie Loomis in the audio play "Return to Collinwood."

TEN THINGS THAT NEVER HAPPENED TO WILLIE LOOMIS  
3\. RESET

As the limousine pulled up in front of the hotel entrance, one darkened window rolled smoothly down and a plump, blue-eyed man with sandy blond hair going gray slid his sunglasses down his nose as he looked out.  


“I know I said this at the airport,” said Willie Loomis, “and again when the limo pulled up but whoever sent you those tickets really meant for us to travel first class.”  


Another man, older, with dark hair streaked with silver, glanced out the window. “I still think coming here was a bad idea.”  


An attendant sprang forward to open the door to allow first Julia Hoffman, then Barnabas Collins, then Jessica Loomis and finally Willie step out in the bright Caribbean sunshine. Barnabas and Julia looked anxious, linking arms on the sidewalk as they looked up at the facade of the hotel.  


“According to Fodor’s,” said Jessica, peering at the guide she had clutched in her hand, “It’s not really five star. Maybe four.”  


Willie snatched the guide out of her hand, laughing. “The first time I stayed on Martinique, I stayed at a mariner’s hostel down by the docks. It was like a prison barracks, rows of bunkbeds, but it was convenient to all the whorehouses.”  


Jessica snatched the guidebook back and smacked Willie with it. “I don’t want to know that.”  


Barnabas gave Willie an exasperated look, then led the party into the lobby foyer, where he registered for all of them.  


The rooms were large and airy, with balconies providing a stunning sea view. Wille stepped out onto the one for the room he shared with his wife and spread his arms. “There is a huge difference,” he said, grinning at Jessica, “between the breezes off the North Atlantic and the breezes of the Caribbean.”  


Barnabas was standing in the middle of his room, frowning at the French doors that led to the balcony. “I don’t like this.”  


The door between the two suites were open so Willie heard the remark. “Oh, for god’s sake, Barnabas. Free trip to the Caribbean in February and you are complaining.”  


Barnabas frowned ominously at Willie, an expression that once would have sent Willie running in terror. Instead, Willie came in to stand beside him, still smiling.  


“You don’t find it suspicious?” Barnabas’ deep voice sounded very unhappy. “Some stranger suddenly offers me an all-expense paid trip to the one place on this earth I swore I would never return to?”  


“The lady who invited you is the head of the Martinique Historical Society.” It was Julia who spoke. “We went over this a thousand times. She wrote to Carolyn over a year ago, explaining she was working on a major research project on the history of Martinique and she knew the Collins family was once a major influence in colonial Martinique. Carolyn wrote back and said you would be the one to ask but you were hard to get in touch with.”  


“If the two of you weren’t always running backwards around the world,” interjected Willie, who had discovered the bar and was mixing drinks, “We could find you. Where were you when you got Carolyn’s letter? Outer Nowhereland?”  


“Vanuatu,” said Barnabas, taking the offered gin and tonic from Willie’s hand. “Formerly the New Hebrides.”  


“We were talking about going back to Collinsport for a visit and Carolyn’s letter just gave us added incentive,” Julia said.  


“I still don’t believe the Martinique Historical Society can afford this.” Barnabas still sounded unhappy.  


“Maybe they can’t but Madame What’s Her Name can,” said Willie, handing the ladies their drinks, “She could be rich.”  


“And maybe,” said Barnabas bitterly, “I am doomed.”  


“Oh, for f. . ..” Wille grabbed his the other man’s arm with his free hand and dragged Barnabas to the dresser, over which was hanging a large mirror. “Look in there.”  


“What?”  


“What do you see?”  


Barnabas’ frown only deepened as he stared at his reflection.  


“I see two middle-aged guys,” said Willie, raising a toast to his reflection. “Grey haired, wobbly chins, could stand to lose a few pounds.”  


“Speak for yourself,” muttered Barnabas.  


“Okay, I could stand to lose quite a few pounds. The point is, the guy in the mirror isn’t the guy you were two hundred years ago when that crazy lady got involved in your life.” Willie didn’t say the name because he knew Barnabas was very superstitious about Angelique’s name being spoken out loud. “You’re not him. She makes you immortal now, you’re a middle-aged vampire. Who the hell ever heard of a middle-aged vampire?”  


Julia had come around to Barnabas’ other side, slid her arm around his waist and brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Willie’s right. I think that silver streak in your bangs is damned sexy but you have gotten almost twenty-five years older in the last twenty-five years.”  


Barnabas managed a faint smile at his reflection. “I have, haven’t I? Maybe Madame Delacroix really is the head of the Société Historique de Martinique.”  


“And maybe,” said Jessica, coming in from the balcony, menu in hand, “We should decide on where to go and what to have for dinner.”

Dinner, eaten on a private deck built over the water, had managed to relax Barnabas a little. That and two more of Willie’s drinks. The conversation had been desultory at the beginning, since Willie hadn’t been close to Barnabas or Julia in years and Jessica was a near stranger, but it got friendlier when Willie started to tell some of his adventures in the merchant marine, including previous trips to Martinique.  


Jessica was questioning his story about the brothel that charged twelve dollars for ten minutes, which ended with Willie cheerfully crying, “I was 19. I could accomplish a lot in ten minutes.”  


There was the last flash of the sun and they were plunged into darkness, with only the stars and a faint quarter moon for light. A server was moving among the private dining docks, adding candles to the one flickering in a bowl in the center of each table.  


“That is odd,” said Jessica, looking around at the darkness. “Willie told me there was no sunrise or sunset in the tropics but I didn’t really believe it was that. . .abrupt.”  


Julia nodded in response, finishing the last bite of her dessert. “It took a while to get used to. I still like sunrises and sunsets.”  


“I’m all about the sunsets,” said Willie, “Right, Barnabas.”  


Barnabas frowned. “Very droll.”  


“I wasn’t referring to that. I meant I never liked to get up early in the morning although I’ve had to most of my life. I like sleeping in.”  


Barnabas sat up, touching his napkin to his lips, and said, “It’s still early but it has been a very long day and I am going to bed.” At Julia’s motion, he laid a hand on her shoulder and said, very firmly, “No, Julia. Stay and enjoy the evening.” He then turned and walked back to the main hotel.  


Julia started to stand but it was Willie who stopped her, laying his hand over hers. “Let him go. We need to talk.”  


Julia pulled her hand away, her thin lips tightening to a grim line. “About what? Do you know something. Has Barnabas told you something he didn’t tell me?” 

Willie shook his head. “Nothing like that. Really. You are his wife and his confidant. I’m just the guy who used to keep house for him. But that is what I want to explain. Why I am here, with Jess, in the first place. And no, it’s not just because I’ve known him longer than anyone else in this century.” He paused, took a swallow of water and ice, and drew a deep breath.  


“I was stunned when Barnabas asked me to come with him. I assumed he’d ask Carolyn and her husband. But he pulled me aside and explained.” Willie shook his head, laughing at his memory, “He said that he was sure, underneath this kindly, grandfatherly facade I have now, was the old Willie Loomis. And he knew that there was one thing old Willie Loomis was good at and that was self-preservation. I have to admit, I hadn’t thought of it that way, but he’s right.” Willie looked up at Julia. “How many times should I have died in those early days with Barnabas? From the first moment I opened that coffin, I should have been a dead man.”  


Julia winced a little at the word ‘coffin’ but said nothing.  


“But here I am.” He spread his hands and smiled. “Kindly and grandfatherly.”  


“I don’t understand,” said Jessica.  


Julia answered, her voice tight and disapproving. “He means that Barnabas expects things to go wrong. Very wrong. But that Willie will somehow survive. Like a cockroach in a nuclear holocaust.”  


Jessica looked horrified but Willie merely laughed. “True. And he wants you to survive with me.”  


“That man!” Julia tossed her napkin down on the table, slapping the tabletop as she did so. “If he thinks I would run away when he was in trouble. . .”  


Willie seemed unperturbed by Julia’s anger. “He knows you wouldn’t. And he made me promise that if that lady from the historical society turns to be some evil voodoo witch, I will grab you and Jess and get the heck out of Dodge.”  


Julie wilted a little. “I know there is more to this than history. I can feel it.”  


“Same here,” said Willie. “Barnabas knows something is seriously strange but, at the same time, he says he doesn’t feel as if something terrible is about to happen. And neither do I. Something is going to happen, but I don’t expect to be shipping Barnabas home in a box. But, just in case, old Willie is here.”  


He looked over at his wife and laughed at her horrified expression. He leaned over and picked up her hand to kiss it. “I know I told you all about Barnabas in the old days but you really never quite believed me, did you?”  


“Until this moment, when you talked so casually about opening his coffin, I wasn’t really sure. Now I am. And I hope the old Willie Loomis’ sense of self-preservation works, too.”

***

Julia stirred and opened her eyes, not entirely surprised to find herself alone in bed. Barnabas rarely slept more than a few hours at night, even after all these years. She slid out of bed, glancing at the open French doors as she did so. Pulling a robe over her nightgown, she went out to join her husband on the deck.  


He was leaning on the railing, his dressing gown on but his legs and feet bare, staring out to sea, and didn’t seem the least bit startled when she slid her arms around his waist and rested her head between his shoulders blades.  


“Willie told me you made him promise to rescue me if need be.”  


She felt rather than heard his laugh.  


“Did you expect anything else?”  


“No.” She sighed, leaning close, rubbing her check on the soft silk of the robe. “Even after all these years, you still have this old-fashioned protective streak when it comes to me. I almost like it.”  


Barnabas turned slowly, putting his arms around her and tucking her head under his chin. She could listen to his heartbeat and she snuggled close to do so. She had seen him in his coffin, examined him when, by all rational standards, he was a corpse. It still gave her nightmares, all these years later. When he spoke, Julia could feel the rumble of his deep voice as well as hear it.  


“I know this is about more than history. No one cares that much about how much the Collins family had invested in sugar plantations in 1790.”  


Rubbing her cheek against his chest, Julia sighed. “I know. But I don’t have any sense of doom, for lack of a better word.”  


Barnabas laughed, pushed her far enough away from him he could look into her eyes. “Neither do I. Something impending, yes. Something terrible, no. I asked Willie and he felt the same way. Something but what?”  


“I have an idea,” whispered Julia, slipping her hands inside his dressing gown, “of something we could do on a warm tropical night besides talk about Willie Loomis.”  


Barnabas laughed and bent his head to hers as he pushed her robe and gown off her shoulders.

***

Willie came back from the bathroom frowning. “There’s another thing I could do at 19. Sleep through the night without having to get up every two hours to pee! Especially if I had just gotten laid.”  


Jessica laughed. “Willie Loomis, you are the most romantic man.” Even in the dimness of their room, Willie saw her expression change. “I want to ask you about Barnabas.”  


Grumbling, Willie slid into bed next to his wife. “Really? We just finish making love and you start talking about Barnabas. The story of my life.”  
Jessica sat up against the headboard, wrapping her arms around her bent knees. “I know you told me about him. About how you found him. . .and what he made you do. . .but until tonight, I didn’t really understand.”  


“You mean you didn’t really believe me?”  


“No, I mean understand. He is a compelling man, with those dark eyes and that voice. Even just as a middle-aged guy,” She smiled at Willie, “He is still striking. Add to that, powerful psychic abilities, I can see why you did what he told you to do.”  


“If I didn’t, he would have ripped out my throat.”  


Jessica fell silent for a moment, leaning against her husband as he joined her sitting up.  


“When I first met him a couple of days ago, I just thought he was a polite, rather good-looking, older man. But at dinner tonight. He was telling that hilarious story about getting in lost in the airport, and he was laughing as hard as any of us, wiping his eyes, even, but he never lost that sad look. As if he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. Did he look that way back then.”  


“Actually, when I first opened the coffin and he looked at me, all I thought was ‘Holy shit, he’s alive.’ I didn’t notice the sad part until later.”  


“But you did notice it.”  


“Yeah.” Willie put one arm behind his head and wrapped the other around his wife’s shoulders. “I did. When he first. . . fed from me. I guess he sucked the knowledge of the last couple of centuries out of me along with my blood. Because he adapted really easily to the twentieth century. But he was still stuck back there, in his head. He was trapped in that coffin, with a silver cross in the lid so he couldn’t get out even using his powers, for a century and a half. He was crazy and dangerous and powerful and I was scared to death of him. But I still felt sorry him. Even when he was doing terrible things, he was just trying to rebuild the happiness he had lost. I knew that.”  


Jessica sighed. “You still have nightmares. I wonder if he does?

***

The note said a carriage would meet them in front of the hotel and the open landau would take them to some gardens some distance from old city center of Fort-de-France. They would be served brunch and finally meet the woman from historical society.  


The ride was pleasant, with a guide pointing out spots of interest as they drove slowly along. Barnabas even seemed to enjoy the trip. At the gardens, an elegant woman with mahogany colored skin, dressed in a pale suit, her head wrapped with a colorful scarf, introduced herself as the mysterious Madame Delacroix.  


The brunch was perfect. Every bit of of food, each discrete server, the table set among the flowers. Even Barnabas seemed to relax a little as Madame Delacroix took notes of his answers about Collins investments.  


As they sat with coffee, discussing the names of the huge, colorful blossoms, Barnabas finally said, “What is the name of this place?”  


“Ah.” Madame Delacroix folded her napkin and set it neatly on the table. “This the Brothers of Mercy Memorial Garden. No one calls it by the full name, though, because it reminds them of what was here before. It’s just called the Memorial Garden and everyone behaves as if it doesn’t memorialize anything in particular.  


Barnabas sat up straight. The others noticed his reaction.  


“Barnabas?” Julia’s hand touched his. “What it is?”  


“The Brothers of Mercy ran the plague hospital in old Fort-de-France. If someone came down with a contagious disease like yellow fever or malaria, the law required they be taken away to the pest house, hoping to contain the spread of whatever ghastly tropical disease was afflicting them. It was some distance from the town in those days.”  


“Yes.” Madame Delacroix was also sitting up straighter.  


Barnabas smiled, a faint, ironic smile. “And now we come to the real reason why you invited me to come here.”  


“Yes,” said Madame Delacroix again. “I do belong to the historical society but I also belong to another society, one that dedicates itself to righting wrongs. Some very evil things happened long ago, and we are trying to set them right.”  


“In London,” said Julia suddenly, as if she were changing the conversation, “There are some lovely parks built over old cemeteries and old plague pits.”  


Madame Delacroix nodded and said, “Yes,” a third time.  


“Ugh” Willie made a face. “We just ate that nice meal on top of a bunch of dead bodies. You could have kept that to yourself, Julia.”  


“The brothers hospital,” said Barnabas, looking around as he could look back over the centuries to the building itself, “was where you were taken to die, for most part. The lower floor was for the poor. They were laid on the ground and no one cared for them except their families, if they dared. Several times a day, slaves would collect the corpses and wrap them in shrouds made of leaves and toss them into a pit. They kept fires burning near the pit, the smoke scented with sweet wood, to try to cover the stench of decay. When a pit was full, the bodies were covered with a few inches of dirt and rocks and another pit was started.  


“If you were rich, you were taken upstairs. There were canvas cots, and slaves to fan you or brush away the flies. Surgeons would come around to bleed you, making note of who you were so they could send a bill to your family. If you died there, you were wrapped in a canvas shroud, a priest said a few words over the body if you were Catholic, and then the rich were dropped into a second pit. The monks made note of the names of the people who came into the hospital who were rich so they could bill the families for care and funeral services.”  


Julia gripped her husband’s hand more tightly, trying to pull him back to the present. “How do you know so much about that?”  


“What?” He turned, startled, then shook his head. “I was taken to the Brothers of Mercy hospital with malaria a few days after I first arrived in Martinique. I was lucky. I was young and healthy and I guess Andre DuPres paid for some medicines and I survived. I guess about 10 percent of the rich survived. None of the poor, so far as I know.”  


Madame Delacroix had listened very carefully to every word, her eyes shadowed. When he finished, she said, very softly, “Do you remember who brought the medicine? 

“What?”  


“I know you haven’t thought about what happened to you nearly two hundred years ago. It was something you no doubt wanted to forget. But can you remember who brought you that vial of medicine?”  


Barnabas stood up so abruptly his chair fell over. He paid no attention as Wille set it back up. His hands were wrapping around each nervously, a habit both Willie and Julia were familiar with. He paced away a few steps, then turned back, his brow furrowed. “I don’t. . .it wasn’t my valet. Or Andre DuPres manservant. Dear God!” He took several deep breaths before he could say the name. “It was Angelique. That was the first time I ever remember noticing her. She may have been in the background before but as a servant, I paid her no attention. But she brought the medicine.”  


Willie let out a low whistle and reached out to clasp his wife’s hand.  


“That’s where it began,” said Madame Delacroix. “At the Brothers of Mercy Hospital. Ironic, really. The vial contained more than medicine. It contained essences designed to ensnare the attention of a man.”  


Barnabas stopped his pacing to stare at the woman. “Are you telling me, everything that happened, to me, to her, to Josette and everyone else, all started there?”  


“Yes.” Madame Delacroix smiled sadly. “All the evil that dominated your life and more began at that moment.  


Barnabas shook his head. “What does it matter now where it started? I was young and arrogant and cruel and foolish. That was why I found myself in the position I found myself in.”  


“You didn’t help matters, no.” Madame Delacroix said. “But while you were not completely innocent in your own downfall, you would never have suffered so much had not Angelique been a witch and dark witch, at that. She used her powers for evil and they more than captured you. The curse she placed on you was to affect your family for generations to come.”  


Willie spoke up. “Barnabas was in that coffin until 1967.”  


“We went back in time,” said Julia, reaching for Barnabas’ hand again. He let her take it for a moment before pulling away.  


“It wasn’t your traveling in time, my dear doctor.” Madame Delacroix expression was sympathetic. “It was merely the presence of such dark magic in one place, spinning in on itself, sending out a siren song to attract other dark magics.”  


“You’re saying being in my coffin for 150 years sent out a call and evil befell my family as a consequence. I did them damage even without knowing it.”  


Madame Delacroix nodded. “The place you call home is a place of power, even without what happened to you, and the powers congregate there naturally. However, the presence of such a dark curse meant that the powers that gathered were dark as well. I’m not saying your family would have been free of the supernatural and suffering it has brought upon them but the degree would have been much less.”  


“Count Petrofi.” said Barnabas, ‘Judah Zachary.”  


“As I said, some of the suffering from dark magic might have happened because of your family’s connection to it. But the worst of it, monsters from other dimensions, those would not have been so attracted to your family if you were not present.”  


“So even the Leviathans are my fault.”  


“Not your fault. Fault implies intent. You never intended to cause the problems. But your presence did attract dark magic.”  


Julia stood up suddenly and went to her husband, embracing him fiercely. “You are not a monster. You were never a monster.” Her voice was low and intent. “You were never evil.”  


“Mr. Collins,” said Madame Delacroix. “was never evil. But the evil done to him caused more evil.”  


Julia turned, glaring at Madame Delacroix. “Why did you bring us here? Just to make Barnabas feel worse? He’s been blaming himself for decades. He didn’t need you to tell him he caused his family problems. But it wasn’t his fault!”  


Madame Delacroix sighed. “Please sit down, Dr. Hoffman. I know you love your husband very much. He is a lucky man to have such woman at his side. I have no intention of upsetting either of you. I merely want to offer a chance to set the evils aside.”  


Barnabas, with Julia still clutching his hand, came and sat down. Madame Delacroix made a gesture and servants appeared with fresh coffee and fruit. When they had discretely withdrawn, she steepled her fingers beneath her chin and stared intently at Barnabas.  


“Yes, you were wrong to make love to Angelique and then discard her for her mistress but you were a man of your time. You could hardly bring a maidservant home as a wife, not when you had a lovely woman of good family with a proper dowry available.” Barnabas started to say something but she silenced him with a sharp look. “You loved them both, Mr. Collins, of that I have no doubt. Deeply and sincerely. But, as I said, you were a man of your time.”  


“Which is not this time,” muttered Willie, before falling silent under multiple chastening looks.  


“Had you not loved Angelique and discarded her, you would not be alive today. You would have died long ago and been rotting peacefully in your grave.” Madame Delacroix smiled sadly. “Yet here you are.”  


Barnabas gave Julia a quick, sad smile, before turning his full attention to Madame Delacroix. “And that’s why you brought me here, isn’t it? To change the course of time and prevent my being cursed in the first place?”  


“You have done the same yourself, have you not, moved back in time to prevent a tragedy from occurring?”  


“Yes. But are suggesting I go back to the Brothers of Mercy Hospital and die there?”  


“NO!” Julia slapped her hands down on the table, upsetting her coffee cup. “Absolutely not!”  


“Dr. Hoffman,” Madame Delacroix began to speak but Julia shouted her down. 

“Barnabas is not at fault for anything besides being foolish when he was young. To condemn him to an early death as punishment is cruel and unfair.”  


“Julia.”  


She fell silent at her husband’s tone. “But Barnabas. . .”  


“Madame Delacroix, I imagine you can not guarantee anything but do you have some idea what will happen if I do as you ask.”  


“Do you have something or someone specific in mind?”  


“Sarah. Jeremiah. My mother. Josette?”  


“Perhaps. Give your hands, Mr. Collins.”  


Barnabas took the woman’s hands in his. She started down at their joined hands for a moment before saying, “As you said, I can guarantee nothing, but I have some idea of what would happen if you died in Martinique all those centuries ago. Your little sister, she would have grown to be a woman, married her cousin, I believe, and had children, but still died relatively young, by our modern standards. In her thirties, perhaps, of tuberculosis.”  


Barnabas frowned. “But she would still grow up. Still have something of a life.”  


“Yes. Your uncle, he would marry as well, and have children. I believe. . .” Madame Delacroix closed her eyes in concentration. “The DuPres family would visit Collinwood to return some personal items of yours after your death. Josette would meet Jeremiah and they would fall in love and marry.” She smiled as she opened her eyes and looked up at Barnabas. “Both Sarah and Jeremiah would name their first born sons after you.”  


Julia stood up and walked away from the table. Willie nodded to his wife and then followed Julia.  


“And of course,” continued Madame Delacroix, ignoring the interruption, “None of those you killed because of your curse would have their lives cut short. I cannot see much for those who were not close to you but for some, they would have greater happiness than otherwise.”  


“Judah Zachery? And my cousin, Quentin? Do you know their fates? Would Zachery come back to try to destroy my family.”  


“He will try but he will not have his greatest asset. Angelique will never return to Collinsport in any form. As for your cousin, his fate is too dark for me to see. Nothing may change and everything may change. I cannot tell.”  


Barnabas pulled his hands away. Madame Delacroix sat back. “You will never meet Julia Hoffman and she will live a very different life. But she will never know that this life existed. Your name will be foreign to her. At least, I think it will.”  


Julia stood some distance away, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist, staring at nothing. Willie came up behind her. He spoke softly, his voice just for Julia’s ears.  


“You wouldn’t miss him because you’ll never have met him. And he wouldn’t break your heart a dozen times before he comes to his senses. And some of things you did that you regret, they won’t happen either.”  


“What about you, Willie?” She turned around and look at him, narrowing her eyes. “Barnabas had a tremendous effect on your life.”  


“Yeah. He made me a grave robber. He made me do other horrible things that still give me nightmares. If I never met him, I’d probably still be in the merchant marine or in prison in some third world country because one of Jason’s schemes caught up with him.”  


“You’ll never meet Jessica.”  


“And Jessica will never come back to Collinsport because her daughter-in-law will never fall under one of those curses that were attracted there by Barnabas.”  


Julia frowned. “Her daughter-in-law? I didn’t know. . .”  


“Susan died. That’s why Jessica came back to Collinsport. Jessica has gone through some horrible things, too. I don’t think she’d mind missing them. I’m not that much of a catch.”  


“Willie. . .”  


Willie smiled sadly at Julia. “I know. I’ve gotten to like him, too. But let me ask you one question. Just one. Have you ever looked at him and thought now there’s a guy without a care in the world? Ever? Even when he is happy, he looks as if he carries the weight of the world. Even on your wedding day, was he really, truly free of his past? I saw the pictures you sent Carolyn. You looked beyond happy. He looked happy but still sad, the way he always does. I know when he thought he was going to recreate Josette with Maggie, even then, even when it seemed to working, I could see the struggle he was having, the guilt. He was insane after 150 years locked up in that box but under the insanity was a decent human being and that decent guy knew what he was doing was wrong. He used to walk the halls of the Old House at night and I would see him, sometimes, and he was never smiling. Ever. He always looked lost and lonely, searching for the people he once loved that were all long dead, some because of him.”  


Julia started to sob and let Willie pull into her arms. “Damn you, Willie Loomis. You used to be an idiot. When did you get smart?”  


Willie chuckled, pulling out a handkerchief for Julia. “I’m not smart but even after all these years, I still know what Barnabas is thinking. He loves you but he wants to fix all the lives he ruined even more than he loves you. I’m sorry but we both know it’s true.”  


“Julia.” Barnabas walked across the close-cropped grass and took his wife from Willie’s arms and enfolded her in his, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Julia Hoffman, you know that I love you more than I ever loved anyone. All those youthful infatuations were nothing compared to what I have with you. We really are soulmates. And I have to believe you understand what my soul needs.”  


It took Julia several minutes to regain her control. Willie, Jessica and Madame Delacroix all moved away to give them privacy. While Barnabas spoke quietly to his wife, Willie, Jessica and Madame Delacroix discussed the flowers, Jessica bemoaning that nothing so lovely would grow in the cold of Maine.  


“Madame Delacroix?” Barnabas was standing with one arm around Julia’s waist, while his wife wiped her eyes. “I’m ready. What do I do?”  


“Follow me.” They moved behind a tall green hedge to where a teakwood lounger was set up, a bright blue cushion on it and a table for drinks at the ready. “All you need to do is lie down, close your eyes, and try to remember being in the Brothers of Mercy Hospital. If you truly want to go back there, your soul will take you there.”  


“That’s it?” Willie sounded skeptical. “No burning anything or chanting or waving bones around or anything?”  


Madame Delacroix laughed. “No, Mister Loomis. You will find most light magic is much simpler to cast than the dark. Less effort and less, how shall I put it, dramatics.”  


Barnabas pulled Julia into a kiss that made Willie look away, muttering “Get a room,” which made his wife smack him in the arm.  


“I love you, Julia. If this works, you wouldn’t remember ever even meeting a man named Barnabas Collins. But my love will still be in your heart. Don’t ever forget that. We had more than 20 wonderful years together, more than I ever should have had. Twenty years of happiness beyond anything I deserved. And now the time has come to say good-bye.”  


Barnabas sat down on the lounge, looking puzzled. “This is more comfortable than the cot was in the pest house.”  


“If it is to work, it will work,” was all Madame Delacroix said.  


Barnabas took a deep breath and looked up at Willie. “I’d tell you take care of her but you’ll probably never meet her.”  


“Probably not. I’m not gonna say this isn’t the right thing to do, but I will miss knowing you, even if I don’t know that I ever knew you. You showed me that no matter what life throws at you, it’s worth fighting back. To be a decent person, no matter what.”  


“Thank you, Willie. That means a great deal to me.”  


Julia leaned against Willie, tears rolling down her cheeks. Jessica came around to her other side to lend support.  


“Thank you, Madame Delacroix. If I have to leave this life, at least it was after a pleasant night and a lovely brunch.”  


“Thank you, Mr. Collins, for being so brave.”  


Barnabas shrugged. “After 200 years, you don’t have to be brave to be ready to lay your burdens down. You just have to be tired.  


He lay back, remembering those days when he lay back in his coffin. He closed his eyes, shuddering a little at the memory.  


Then he really started to shake, shivering so hard his teeth rattled. Barnabas rolled over on his side, retching, but there was nothing but bile in his stomach. He curled up, aware that he was actually moaning and trying not to.  


He could hear someone crying out. “No, papa, No, don’t send him away.”  


Then a man’s voice, closer. “I have to, Josette. It’s the law. Wait.” A hand grasped his. Barnabas opened his eyes and stared up, unable to focus clearly on the face.  


“I’m taking this ring off, Mr. Collins,” said Andre DuPres. “You’ll be robbed blind in that hospital. I’ll give it back when you return in a few days.”  
Barnabas couldn’t respond, not with his teething chattering so hard. He just closed his eyes, thinking that Andre DuPres was a terrible liar. He would never be coming back to this elegant mansion in Fort-de-France.  


The bearers carried him on a stretcher out to a cart where a few other poor souls were already shaking and sweating. The road to the hospital was rough and every jolt sent stabbing pains through his joints. Delirium swept him away and he was on a ship at sea, caught in a storm. He must be in the north Atlantic, because he was so cold. So cold he must be freezing to death.  


“Put him there.” The voice spoke in French. Barnabas realized he was being carried into the plague hospital. The bearers rolled him off the stretcher onto the waiting cot, not bothering to worry about his comfort.  


A man came over and there was a brief exchange. He heard his name and that of DuPres. Ah, a record must be kept so a bill could be sent. Barnabas remembered someone saying something about that before he became ill, that the Brothers made a profit on the rich that helped provide for the poor, although all that meant was a burial sans even a decent shroud.  


Someone tugged at one arm that he had curled tightly over his burning belly. More French but he was too delirious to translate. He felt a sharp sting just below his elbow and knew it must be a surgeon bleeding him. He knew that was standard treatment but he never understood why. It would seem the body needed the blood it contained. After all, if a person lost too much, that resulted in death.  


The ship rolled in a great wave, slamming him to the deck so hard he was sure his bones must be broken. Then a priest walked by, ringing a bell, followed by another with a censure. They paused at his side. “Huguenot” said one man, probably referring to the DuPres family. They walked on.  


Barnabas felt the sweat break out over his body, hot and stinging as acid, and he whimpered in pain. Dear god, this was worse than anything he had fallen ill with before. His father told him the tropical diseases were awful but this was beyond bearing. His poor mother. Of all the children she had borne, only two had survived, and now her eldest was likely to die thousands of miles from home. Poor Sarah. His adored little sister would be left alone.  


A hand brushed his soaking hair back from his brow. The hand was cool compared to his burning skin and smelled of exotic spices rather than stinking of sickness and suffering.  


“Barnabas. Barnabas Collins.” It was woman’s voice. “Open your eyes. I’ve brought medicine.”  


He tried to focus his eyes but they refused to cooperate. There was a woman kneeling next to his cot, with blonde hair, wearing a long grey cloak, but beyond that, he had no idea who she was. Perhaps she was just another delirium.  


“It’s Angelique. Mademoiselle Josette’s lady’s maid. She sent me with medicine that will help you.”  


Barnabas was struck with a paroxysm of shuddering, making the legs of the cot shake. As is ended, as he fell back gasping, a small, strong hand grasped his chin and turned his face towards hers. He felt something pressing on his lips but the thought of swallowing made him gag.  


“Barnabas.” The woman sounded very firm and almost angry. “You must drink this.’  


Who was this ridiculous woman, he thought, addressing me by my given name, telling me what I should so, when she was just some servant girl. He tried to push her away but his arms trembled so much they did little but brush against her.  


“Listen to me, Barnabas,” she commanded in an appallingly familiar way. “This will cure you.”  


He wanted to laugh. Nothing cured malaria. She would probably try to force her employer to pay her for whatever vile concoction she was trying to pour down Barnabas’ throat.  


“Get away,” he muttered, pulling away from her.  


“You must drink this! Barnabas! Listen to me.”  


He rolled away from the insistent woman, gagging and retching again.  


Before the woman could make another attempt at accosting him, two of the monks called from across the room. She was a woman and had no business in men’s side of the hospital. There were raised voices that Barnabas was too ill to translate, and a scuffle, as the woman was dragged away, shrieking.  


Then a wave of agony rolled through him, his insides on fire while his skin was freezing, and the world faded away.

***

The car stopped but Dr. Julia Hoffman didn’t look up from her reading until a voice from the front seat said, “Earth to Dr. Hoffman.”  


“Oh, Will, are we there?” 

“Not quite. I just thought you’d like to see the Sarah Collins.”  


Her chauffeur grinned and gestured. They were parked above the Collins Family Shipyard. For the last century or so, it had made small pleasure craft, but they had pulled old plans out for the occasion and were building a new sailing ship. It was half finished, with one of what would be three masts set, but Julia was sure Will, who had been in the merchant marine before he came to Windcliff, could picture it as it would look when it was finished.  


“It’s lovely,” she said, more in response to Will’s smile than anything else.  


“I wish I could take the next year off and be in her crew. Sail to the Caribbean, then come back for the Tall Ships sailing into New York on the Fourth of July. It’s gonna be amazing.”  


Julia, who was slipping her reading glasses into her pocket as she tidied up the books and notebooks spread out beside her on the back seat, said. “Why don’t you?”  


Will laughed. “I have those student loans to pay off, remember? The deal was the sanitarium board would pay for my nursing school and I would guarantee to work for them for three years after graduation. And since I actually managed to pass my boards, I guess I’m stuck.”  


Since nursing school had been Julia’s idea, she could only make sympathetic noises. “Maybe you can get the Fourth of July off next summer and go to Boston or New York.”  


“Maybe.” He stared wistfully out the windshield.  


“Why don’t you go down and look at the boat. . .”  


“Ship,”  


“Ship. Why don’t you go down look at the ship and I’ll drive up to Collinwood.”  


“Don’t have to ask Will Loomis twice,” he replied, opening the driver’s door and sliding out quickly enough to open the back door for her. “Drive carefully.” He shut the door behind her, then turned to walk down to the dock.  


Julia had to smile as she watched Will walk away. He had positively blossomed in the last few years, although she would never phrase it like to that to him. She put the car in gear and drove the curving drive up to the great house of Collinwood. When she first started coming to visit, when Elizabeth Stoddard first joined the board of Windcliff, there hadn’t been a gate but now, with the increase in visitors that the little village was experiencing, there was an electric gate. Some tourists assumed the mansion was a hotel or a museum so the gate had become a necessity.  


Fortunately, one of the gardeners recognized her car and opened the gate for her as she arrived. She waved at him as she drove slowly past. Sometimes, even now, the Collins money intimidated her. Liz was generous and the Collins Foundation philanthropy was equally generous but it did remind Julia occasionally that the Collins family were the very definition of “old money.” They had been rich before the revolution that was celebrating its 200th anniversary in the coming year.  


Still, Liz answered her own door when Julia knocked and invited her into the foyer cheerfully. “Where’s your protege? I thought you were bringing Will with you.”  


“He drove me but stopped at the docks to look at the boat. The ship, I mean.  


Liz laughed. “You don’t come from a nautical family.”  


“Hardly. I came from a family of Pennsylvania Dutch farmers.”  


“Nothing wrong with that,” said Roger Collins, coming out of his study. “Good sturdy stock, no doubt.”  


“Wait.” Carolyn Stoddard, Liz’s daughter, followed her uncle out of the study. “I thought you told me your grandmother was a genuine Magyar gypsy.”  


“She was,” replied Julia, laughing, ”but she married a Pennsylvania Dutchman. Although he wasn’t a farmer. He was a banker.”  


Carolyn looked around, frowning. “Where’s Will?’ She had missed that part of the conversation.  


“Ah, yes.” Roger’s voice was less than approving. “I thought you were bringing your young friend with you.”  


“I did. He was so excited to look at the . . .ship that he stopped at the docks.”  


“So,” said Carolyn, hooking her arm through Julia’s and speaking in a conspiratorial whisper, “Did he pass the boards?”  


“Yes, he passed the boards. He is now a fully-qualified registered nurse.”  


“HA!” Carolyn danced away from Julia and held her hands out to her uncle. “Pay up!”  


Roger sighed dramatically as he pulled out his wallet and extracted a dollar bill. He placed it in Carolyn’s hands. She clapped her hands around the dollar, crying “I told you so.”  


Roger’s disapproving frown looked less than serious. “Honestly, Julia, I never thought that boy would get his GED, let alone get through college.”  


“What,” asked a voice from the top of the stairs that Julia hadn’t heard before, “is a GED?”  


Julia turned and the words Carolyn was speaking, explaining the school system in the United States and what happened if a person didn’t finish school in the usual way, faded away. Julia was staring at the man at the top of stairs, who was smiling politely as he listened.  


He wasn’t that extraordinary a man. Six feel tall or so, with dark brown hair that fell over his forehead in a soft fringe. His eyes were brown, too, dark and deep set. His face wasn’t classically handsome but it was a striking, intelligent face. He wore a brown hunting jacket, complete with leather patches on the shoulder and elbows, an ivory collarless shirt, the top two buttons open, brown wool trousers with a crisp crease and brown shoes. Nothing extraordinary, nothing except Julia could not take her eyes off him.  


He came down the stairs, smiling generally at the group below. When Carolyn finished her explanations, Elizabeth made introductions.  


“Dr. Julia Hoffman, director of Windcliff Sanitarium, may I introduce my cousin from England. Barnabas, this is Julia, a dear family friend.”  


His hand, as he took Julia’s, was warm and his handshake was firm. Julia felt her cheeks flush as she stared into his eyes. She hadn’t had a response to a man like this since she was in her twenties.  


“Barnabas,” she finally managed to stammer, surreptitiously wiping her sweating palm on the edge of her skirt.”That’s an unusual name.”  


“Oh, it’s an old family name,’ replied Roger. “There were two men named Barnabas Collins in the early nineteenth century. Cousins of some sort. One stayed here and is my great grandfather so many times over and the other went to Great Britain to keep an eye on Collins’ business interests there.”  


Still smiling, Barnabas made a slight mocking bow towards Roger. “The family on this side of the pond had enough sense to let the name lapse but on my side, it became traditional to name the eldest son Barnabas.”  


Julia took a deep breath, hoping no one, especially the interesting Mr. Collins, had noticed her reaction. “It’s a very distinguished name.”  


He leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, and Julia got a whiff of sandalwood or some other masculine cologne. “Actually, it’s my middle name.” He stepped back before Julia embarrassed herself. “My first name is John but since I have an Uncle John and Cousin Johnny back home, I sort of defaulted to Barnabas. It does look good on business card, though, J. Barnabas Collins.”  


“Esquire?” said Julia, still trying to regain her equilibrium.  


He laughed and she found herself as enchanted with his laugh as she was with the rest of him. “Good lord, no. I’m an architect. I specialize in the restoration and rehabilitation of structures from the seventeenth through the nineteenth century.” He gestured at the hall around them. “Hence my desire to visit Collinwood.”  


Roger gave Barnabas a manly slap on the shoulder. “He says the old girl is in excellent condition.”  


Before they could discuss Collinwood any further, David popped up from the door under the stairs that Julia knew led eventually to the kitchen and said. “Hey, aren’t we going to the lobster festival?”  


There was a murmuring of voices and people shuffled around, with Roger directing who would ride in which car. Julia found herself standing next to Liz, who whispered, “His wife died a few years ago and his sister—she’s the one I correspond with—says he’s become almost a hermit. So she sent him here hoping some forward American woman would catch his eye.” Liz gave Julia a gentle poke in the ribs. “You’ve been nominated. Forward.”  


Julia wanted to say something to Liz about how ridiculous the very idea was but at the same time, when she found herself directed to sit in the back seat next to Barnabas in the car Carolyn was driving, she didn’t mind.  


“What’s really crazy,” said Carolyn as they started towards town, “Is Cousin Barnabas wants to restore the Old House.”  


“Now, Carolyn,” chastised her mother. “It’s what he does for a living.”  


Barnabas laughed. “The Old House is actually in pretty decent shape for a house that hasn’t been lived in for what, almost 60 years. The foundation is in good condition. Even the slates on the roof aren’t too bad. The shutters were closed and the family kept vandals away. Believe me, I have restored houses in much worse condition.”  


“Is it livable?,” asked Julia. “I’ve never been inside?”  


Barnabas turned and smiled at Julia and she was rather horrified at the way her heart fluttered at his smile. “No electricity, of course. The fixtures in the baths are all in good condition, but the lead pipes will have to be replaced. Much of the work is just cosmetic. Bad plaster, wood needing refinishing.”  


“No central heat,” added Carolyn as she waved at someone. “No functioning kitchen.”  


Barnabas laughed again. “You forget, dear Cousin, I’m English. Most of our stately old homes don’t have central heat and I can’t cook anyway. As long as there is takeaway or family to invite to me to the occasional meal, I can survive.”  


“Uncle Roger thinks it’s a crazy idea.”  


Barnabas laughed again. “Dear Roger is a decent country gentleman with no imagination and a tight hand on his purse. England is full of men like him. I’ve agreed to pay for any restoration work so even if Roger thinks it’s crazy, I may do it anyway. Just to show him.”  


They all laughed at that. Roger and David were in Roger’s sports car, pulling into a parking space and Carolyn neatly maneuvered the bigger sedan next to it. David sprang out and took off for the nearest food stand at a dead run.  


“You’d think he hadn’t eaten in a week,” said Roger, smiling and shaking his head. He linked his arm through his sister’s and they started walking after David.  


Barnabas prepared to offer an arm to each lady when Will came around the corner of a building and called out, “Hey, Dr. Hoffman! Maybe I will take that year off.”  


Julia made a quick introduction but it was obvious Carolyn was more interested in linking arms with Will than her older cousin and the young people quickly drew away, Carolyn laughing at something Will said.  


“I get the feeling Roger doesn’t approve of your Mr. Loomis,” said Barnabas, putting his hand over Julia’s as she slipped it through his bent elbow.  


“Which is part of why I think Carolyn likes him.” She smiled up at Barnabas and he smiled back.  


“So what is his story? I gather there is one.”  


“What I know of it is sad. Abusive father who abandoned his family when Will was just a boy. He lived with a grandmother for a while, then with his mother and her second husband, who also abused him, then in a juvenile institution for what might be called wayward boys.”  


“We call them borstals back home.”  


“Yes. Then he ran away at 15, I think, ended hooking with an older man who, I am quite sure, exploited him in ways he will not admit to, but the man got him identification and got him onto a ship and he spent several years in the merchant marine, traveling around with Jason. That was the older man.”  


Julia continued the conversation, keeping her voice low, as stood in line for food and drinks. Barnabas chose lemonade over beer, grimacing at the thought of American beer. Julia decided she needed her head clear and chose lemonade as well. They made their way to small table, a bit out of the way, while Julia told Will’s story.  


“Jason developed mental problems and ended up the Collins Home for Aged Sailors, even though he wasn’t much more than forty. Will sort of tagged along and got a job as a janitor. It turned out Jason had a brain tumor.”  


Barnabas winced, and looked away. After a moment, he gave Julia a sad smile. “My late wife died of a brain tumor.”  


“I”m sorry, I didn’t mean to. . .” Julia’s voice trailed off as she looked at him. Why on earth did she find him so. . .more than attractive, almost compelling.  


“It’s all right. It will be three years in September. We were lucky, really, My sister is doctor, too, and when Miranda complained of vision issues, Sarah wouldn’t let her shrug them off. There wasn’t anything that could be done, of course. Miranda would have died slowly, loosing her faculties and in great pain, so the stroke that killed her about six weeks after the diagnosis was a blessing, really.”  


“Still, I shouldn’t have so casually. . . “  


Barnabas smiled again, comforting Julia by patting her hand. “We had seventeen wonderful years together. I count myself lucky.”  


“Wait, your sister is named Sarah Collins? Like the bo. . ship.”  


Barnabas laughed, laugh as deep and warm as his voice. “Yes. I think that’s why she decided I should come visit. See if the American cousins are tolerable enough for her to visit when the ship is christened.” He took a swallow of lemonade. “You left Will as a custodian and now I gather he is a registered nurse.”  


Julia looked down at her half-eaten lobster roll, rather embarrassed. “He had a knack with the patients. He has this chameleon-like quality. I suppose he learned it to survive as boy. Sometimes, he can be gentle and patient, but I’ve seen him turn into this street-fighting thug in a heartbeat, if need be. I saw him defuse more than one touchy situation and even got some pretty far gone cases to talk to him. He’s not the brightest young man.” She shook her head as she laughed softly. “Don’t tell Roger this but passing for the nurse’s exam is 82 percent and Will got 84 percent, but it still counts as a pass. But he is good with the patients and competent nurses, especially who want to work in an asylum and are male, are rare as unicorns. Most of our more difficult patients are men.”  


Barnabas laughed again at that and Julia again told herself she couldn’t possibly be falling in love with man she met an hour before just because of his laugh.  


“You still have reason to be proud.”  


“It wasn’t entirely me. Carolyn was taking some psychology classes and she and Will studied together. I don’t know what their reward system was and I don’t want to know but they both passed their toughest classes.”  


Barnabas grinned. “You know how to motivate your students.”  


“Actually, I think that he knew he would triple his salary provided some motivation.”  


“Ah, yes. Miranda and I met because she was writing a book on the architecture of some historic homes in England. The book sold all right but she didn’t get rich off it.” He looked away for a moment and Julia was afraid talking about his wife would make him sad but, to her surprise, when Barnabas looked back, he was grinning wickedly again. “She wrote, under a pseudonym, of course, historical romance novels. They were very successful. A few were even made into tele-films. She was embarrassed by them, but they were going to pay for us to buy a falling down old house and restore it.” Now his smile was sad. “She just didn’t get to see which old house.”  


“I think honoring your wife by restoring the Old House is a very noble thing to do.”  


“Maybe.” Barnabas swirled some of the ice cubes in his drink. “Or maybe I just need something to distract me and take me away from all the memories.”  


“Very much a recommended therapy.”  


“That’s what my Uncle John said. He’s a bishop of the Church of England. He also suggested I start dating again, but that was a piece of advice I was not going to take from a bishop, even if I was named after him.”  


Julia resisted the urge to swear. So much for forward American women. Before she had a chance to gather her thoughts, Roger, Liz and David all came up to their table to urge them to finish their meal so they could all tour the Sarah Collins. There was a pleasant buzz of conversation as they walked but Julia didn’t have a chance to talk to Barnabas again, or tell Liz that the family plot had failed. After touring the ship and catching up with Will and Carolyn, who were walking hand in hand, much to the frowning disapproval of Roger and the pleased smile from Liz, they all had to visit another popular booth.  


“Mrs. Hungerford’s bread pudding is famous,” Roger announced and he herded them to one of the long, shared tables. Julia found herself seated between Will and David, sitting across from Liz, Roger next to her and poor Barnabas at the end, a stranger sitting across the table from him. The woman across the table from Barnabas was known to the Collins family and Julia had to repress a ridiculous surge of jealousy as the woman started chatting with the cousin from England. The fact that she wore a huge diamond wedding and engagement set didn’t really help Julia’s mood.  


The bread pudding did. It was wonderful. At his first bite, Barnabas made a sound that made Julia’s toes curl.  


“This is wonderful,” he exclaimed, patting Roger appreciatively on the back. “I haven’t had a bread pudding this good in ages.”  


“Not since your old nanny made it for you,” said Carolyn teasingly.  


“No nanny, sorry. And my dear late mother was a dreadful cook. Plus I spent much of childhood in a traditional British public school, where the food is intentionally terrible. My late wife’s mother made a bread pudding nearly this good.”  


An awkward silence fell over the table for a moment before Will started talking about the Sarah Collins and everyone moved on to other subjects.  


They walked back to the cars in a group and Roger invited Barnabas to drive back with him so they could discuss Barnabas’ plans for the Old House. Liz and Julia shared the back seat but with David in the front, chattering away about the evening, they couldn’t do much besides shrug and roll eyes at each other.  


Roger and Barnabas vanished into Roger’s study as soon as they entered Collinwood so Julia excused herself and headed up to her room. She didn’t change into her night clothes but spread out some papers on the desk. She and Liz still had to talk about the addition to Windcliff the Collin’s Family Foundation was helping pay for when a soft knock on the door drew her attention away from the blueprints.  


She walked to the door and opened it, surprised to find Barnabas standing there, a rather embarrassed smile on his face. Julia schooled her face carefully, hoping he wouldn’t notice how pleased she was. After all, if he wasn’t interested in dating some forward American woman, she didn’t want to make a fool of herself.  


He smiled rather shyly and made her heart flutter again. This is ridiculous, she told herself, but she didn’t listen.  


“I realized I may have said something that makes you think I’m not interested. . .” His voice trailed off and he laughed weakly. “In dating. I hate using that word at my age but it’s what I have. When Uncle John told me to start dating, that was almost two years ago, and I think he had a particular parishioner in mind and I just wasn’t interested then. But tonight.” His voice trailed off into another weak laugh. “God, I feel like I’m seventeen, talking to the first girl I ever fancied.”  


Julia couldn’t help it. She laughed sympathetically because he looked so adorable. She never thought the word “adorable” but here she was, thinking it. “Well, taking dating advice from a bishop does sound uncomfortable.”  


“It was.” Barnabas took a deep breath and let it out. “I wasn’t interested in his parishioner, either. But tonight, I was talking to this interesting woman over something called a lobster roll and I found myself thinking maybe if I were to stay in Collinsport and maybe if I were to work on the Old House, that interesting woman might be willing to go to dinner with me now and then. While I’m working on the house.”  


Barnabas was leaning against the door frame and Julia found herself mimicking his attitude. “As an interesting woman, who is interested, it sounds interesting.”  


Barnabas laughed with delight. As he did, Julia noticed Will walking down the corridor. Will held up a small square packet and raised his eyebrows questioningly. Barnabas half-turned to see what she was looking at and saw Will and his offering.  


“I appreciate the sentiment, my dear young man,” said Barnabas with a chuckle, “But I ate far too much bread pudding to consider any vigorous activity this evening.”  


Julia just shook her head. “William H. Loomis, sometimes. . . “  


Will laughed and headed down the hall, his walk brisk and intentional.  


Julia sighed. “Now it’s my turn to feel like an embarrassed seventeen-year-old.”  


Barnabas raised an eyebrow. “I do appreciate his enthusiasm but I really did eat far more bread pudding than I should have. That second helping may have been a mistake. And I am a bit out of practice so if we do advance that far in our relationship, I’d like to be in the condition to pay more attention to that activity than trying not to sick up because I ate too much.”  


Julia laughed loudly, leaning back against the wall to catch her breath. “Ah, the British,” she said. “Always know just what to say.” She laid her hand on his arm. “And I appreciate the sentiment. And I ate too much, too.”  


“Well then, once we are hungry again, in a week or two, would you consider dinner?”  


“I would. So you are taking on the Old House?”  


“Roger agreed to extend the power lines from Collinwood and even help install a septic drain field. The rest is up to me.”  


“Ah, septic drain fields. You do know how to talk to a woman.”  


He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed again. “I do rather do that a lot, talk about drain fields and foundations and window mullions.”  


“I talk about medical cases. So I suspect we will bore each other in the most interesting ways.”  


Barnabas laughed again, then his face turned solemn and he said, softly, “Do you mind if I kiss you, Julia?”  


“No. I didn’t eat too much bread pudding for that.”  


Julia tilted her head back as Barnabas leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. They were soft, she thought, and he still smells like sandalwood—under the lobster roll.  


“Good night, Julia,” he said as he stepped back. Then he frowned. “I keep having the strangest deja vu in this house. I feel as I’ve said good-night to you a thousand times before.”  


“I know exactly what you mean. Somehow, good-night, Barnabas, seems like something I’ve said before, and I know I have never met another Barnabas. At least, not that I can recall.”  


He shrugged. “You know everyone claims this place is haunted. Maybe we knew each other in a past life.” 

“Maybe.” Julia slowly closed the door as Barnabas. He was right. It did feel as what had just happened wasn’t a new experience, but an old and very dear one. She shook her head and went back to the desk.  


Just must be the atmosphere of Collinwood.

***

Carolyn poked her head into their bedroom and said to her husband, “Are you ready, yet? Jeez, I thought it was the wife the husband had to wait for.” Will, who was studying his reflection in a long mirror, frowned and said “I’m ready. I’m just. . .”  


Carolyn came up to stand beside her husband, smiling at their reflection. “Uncle Roger is used to us being married. It’s been over a year.” She patted her belly. “And if we name junior after Roger, he may even put us in his will.”  


Will laughed. “Not naming my kid Roger.”  


He kissed his wife on her forehead, then started towards the door. “It’s not Roger. It’s this woman he’s bringing.”  


“She is not one of his girlfriends. Mom swore up and down she just some historian who wants to know crap about the Collins family.”  


Will sighed. He couldn’t explain it. Since his mother-in-law had told them about the dinner party being held at the Old House to honor this woman from Martinique, his nerves had been on edge. He didn’t want to tell Carolyn or she’d tease him about having met her when he visited Martinique in his youth. He was fairly sure that whoever this woman was, she had never worked in the cheap dockside brothels he had visited.  


The party was just family. His mother-in-law and her longtime beau, Elliot Stokes. Will found Professor Stokes to be a stuck-up bore but Barnabas liked him because Stokes had studied in England when he was younger and liked that awful warm beer that Barnabas drank. His former mentor, of course, now married to the cousin from England. Julia had teased him about Carolyn a few times but he had never seen anyone fall so far and so fast as Julia had for Barnabas. Barnabas had been a bit taken aback at first but what Dr. Julia Hoffman wanted, she got, and they had been married not long before Carolyn and Will. David was home from college for the Christmas holiday, along with a few buddies of his. David always brought home a half dozen friends or so on college breaks to be impressed by Collinwood, before he managed to scare them half to death with some prank in the dark hallways of the east wing. This season’s guests were off to Bangor for some party or other and wouldn’t be at the dinner. Will wasn’t that fond of Carolyn’s cousin but had learned to tolerate him, as David had learned to tolerate Will.  


And Roger, who also tolerated Will, if only because Will had managed to get the next generation started on reproduction. And Will now had a master’s degree to Carolyn’s doctorate, which helped. As did Will’s willingness to go sailing with Roger on Roger’s boat, the Phoenix. Nobody else in the family much cared for sailing, Carolyn claiming to get nauseous at the sight of a boat even before she was pregnant.  


So why, thought Will, as they drove the two hours down from Windcliff, where he and Carolyn now lived, to the Old House, did he have this tight feeling in the pit of his stomach? The roads were clear and it wasn’t snowing so the driving wasn’t unnerving as it could be in Maine in December. Maybe just being introduced to another aristocratic type who might ask about whether he was related to Boston Loomis’s or some such bullshit bothered him. Some of the more distant Collins cousins had not been impressed with Carolyn marrying ‘beneath her.’ They hadn’t been invited to the wedding.  


“What are you brooding about?” asked Carolyn. He could never hide anything from her. He smiled fondly and said, “Is the party catered?” and she laughed.  


The front foyer, the main parlor, the dining room, the kitchen, and one bathroom were renovated on the main floor, as well a couple of upstairs bedrooms and another bathroom. Will had helped with a few plumbing chores, taking advantage of things he had learned in engine rooms around the world.  


He had to admit the downstairs bathroom was interesting. It was the first installed, added to the house in 1880, according to Barnabas who had to lecture about every aspect of the house, which is why the toilet had a seat that was a shelf of smooth, dark wood with a hole cut out that looked like it belonged in an outhouse. “It’s what they were used to,” Barnabas had explained as he and Will replaced the porcelain parts underneath. It had a pull chain tank that insisted on making strange wheezing noises no matter what Will did to the mechanism. Julia had decided it was haunted.  


The kitchen was all up-to-date and on the main floor. That had been done by contractors from Bangor. Julia couldn’t cook either but she still wanted to impress people with the stainless steel appliances. Will had never seen stainless steel appliances outside of an institutional kitchen and thought they were ugly but knew they were horribly expensive.  


The rest of the house was elegant, and beautiful, and Will had been assured a thousand times that it looked exactly as late eighteenth century Greek Revival house should look. He just thought the chairs were uncomfortable and there was no television. You had to go to Collinwood to watch the TV in Roger’s study.  


Will was pleased to see the catering truck from the Collinsport Inn pulled up to the back of the house when they arrived. David must have seen them coming and flung the door open as Will and Carolyn walked up.  


“You don’t look pregnant,” shouted David. Carolyn opened her fur coat so he could see the slight bulge.  


“I’ll look more pregnant by springtime,” she assured David, which made him make a face.  


There were general greetings in the hall and then they went into the parlor where a tall, slender black woman in elegant beige suit, her hair wrapped in a cloth with brown, black and white print that reminded Will of some of the more tropical ports he had visited long ago, stood by the fireplace. She turned as Will and Carolyn entered and smiled.  


Will felt a pit of ice forming in his stomach but had long mastered the art of smiling when he didn’t feel like it and smiled back. Carolyn shook the woman’s hand but Will managed to avoid doing more than nodding when he was introduced to Madame Delacroix.  


Julia, in a long green gown that made her look far too attractive for a woman her age, came over to stand next to Will and handed him a glass of hot punch. “She asked all about sugar plantations. I was worried the Collins family ran slaves but apparently they stuck to the rum part of that triangle.”  


Will wasn’t sure what she meant but he drank the punch gratefully. “She seems nice,” he said weakly.  


“Yes. Liz, Roger, Elliot, even David seem quite taken with her.” Julia dropped her voice. “I have no idea why Barnabas and I have this sense of. . .  


“Dread?” Will handed back the empty cup. “I got it, too. No reason for it.” He watched his wife laugh at something Madame Delacroix—Estelle, as they were to call her—said. “Everybody else likes her.”  


Barnabas came over to stand next to his wife, slipping an arm around her waist. He kissed the top of her head. “What’s the topic?”  


Julia said, very softly, “Why do you and I and Will all have this feeling about that woman that nobody else does?”  


Barnabas took a sip of his punch. “Elliot is always on about past lives and parallel time. Maybe we knew her in a past life or parallel time.”  


“Yeah, but why us?” Will shook his head. “Julia and I only met you a few years ago.”  


Before either Barnabas or Julia could reply, Madame Delacroix strolled across the room, smiling pleasantly. “Ah, Mr. Collins. You must be named after the poor young man who died in Martinique in 1795.”  


“Must I?” Barnabas’ voice was so odd, both Julia and Will looked at him. He had gone pale, so pale his wife tugged him over to the nearest chair so he could sit down. “Barnabas?” She pressed her hand against his forehead. “Are you all right?”  


Everyone turned to look at the tableau. Barnabas managed a smile. “Too much punch. Will must have made it.”  


“I’m sorry, Mr. Collins, if anything I said upset you.” Madame Delacroix looked genuinely disturbed.  


“No, nothing you said upset me.” Barnabas shook his head. “As far an I know, I’m named after an uncle and some distant ancestor who emigrated backwards from the United States to England.”  


“Oh. You don’t know who that Barnabas was named after.”  


“What Barnabas?” Julia was perched of the arm of the chair her husband was sitting in and Will could tell she was in full defensive mode. The other woman stepped back, and then sat gracefully on ottoman, putting her below Julia’s eye level. Will knew enough about behavior to recognize someone trying to put another at ease by being submissive.  


Madame Delacroix smiled gently. “The eldest son of Joshua and Naomi Collins came to Martinique in 1795 and caught malaria. He died there. He had been staying with Andre DuPres, who was a co-investor with Joshua in sugar plantations. DuPres and his daughter, Josette, came to Collinwood to return some personal items of their son to the family.”  


“Josette DuPres was my great-grandmother several times over,” said Barnabas slowly. “She married Daniel Collins.”  


“No, no,” said Liz, interrupting the conversation. “Josette married Jeremiah, the younger half brother of Joshua. Sarah Collins married her second cousin Daniel. They both named their eldest sons Barnabas but Josette and Jeremiah’s son was the elder by fifteen years because Sarah was the much younger sister of the Barnabas who died in Martinique. Her son became my ancestor and Josette’s son became your ancestor.” Liz touched Barnabas’ hand gently. “It’s hard to keep it all straight.”  


“Yes, now I remember.” Barnabas looked more like himself. “In fact, there is a family ring that supposedly belonged to that first Barnabas. I inherited from my father years ago. I’d completely forgotten about it.”  


Julia gave him a sharp look. “You’ve never mentioned that.”  


“It was in the things I had Sarah send over when I decided to stay here. It’s in a box of old watch chains and lone cufflinks and the like.”  


Madame Delacroix raised her eyebrows. “Do you not wear it?”  


“Good lord, no.” Barnabas laughed, Julia relaxing at the sound. “My grandfather wore it on the forefinger of his right hand. Big black onyx. I always thought it was pretentious. My father inherited it but it never wore it, either. I think partly because the band is worn very thin. Which isn’t surprising if it’s close to 200 years old.”  


Liz clapped her hands. “I’d love to see it. If it’s convenient.”  


“Yes.” Barnabas stood up. “It’s in a box in the attic, I think. Will, can you give me a hand?”  


Will and Barnabas went up the stairs, one after the other. As soon as they were out of the sight of the party in the parlor, Barnabas stopped and turned to Will. 

“You said she gives you a feeling of dread.”  


“Not dread, exactly,” said Will slowly. “Just the feeling as if I had met her before and something terribly important and terribly sad happened. But that’s ridiculous. I know Carolyn is all about deja vu but this is more than that.”  


“I’ve had constant deja vu since I came here.” Barnabas laughed softly.  


They started forward. Will stopped again as Barnabas reached for a door. “I’m getting that again. There is a back stairs behind that door and at the top of the stairs is servant’s room with two dormer windows, one facing east and one north. I’ve been in that room but I know I’ve never been on the third floor of this house.”  


Will said it flatly, stating it as fact. Barnabas nodded. “You’re right. I don’t know how you know it but you’re right.”  


Will shrugged. “The Collins family still creeps me out sometimes.”  


“It does me, too, and I’m one of them.”  


The two men laughed and went upstairs, past the closed door that led to the room that Will remembered, even though he had never been in it. Another door lead to a storeroom. Barnabas quickly found the box and the smaller, leather case inside it.  


“You didn’t need my help,” said Will.  


“No, I just didn’t want to come up into the attic by myself. Not tonight.”  


They smiled grimly at each other went down the stairs.  


Everyone gathered around as Barnabas opened the leather case. Inside, as he said, were old watch chains and broken cufflinks and small black bag. He pulled out the bag and shook it over his hand, so that a ring fell out into his palm.  


Everyone went completely still, as if there something quite a bit more horrifying than an old ugly ring to look at.  


“Don’t put in on!” said Will, his voice tense.  


“I wasn’t going to.” Barnabas turned it over to show that the band was worn so thin, it had broken.  


“May I?”  


Barnabas handed the ring to Madame Delacroix, who examined it closely. “Lovely piece,” she said. “White gold and onyx. The makers mark is nearly worn away but I’m sure an expert could date it.”  


“We should put it in the historical society exhibit,” said Roger, coming to stand next to Madame Delacroix. “It would make an excellent display.”  


Barnabas handed the black bag to Roger. “Perfect. Here, take it.”  


“You’re sure? It did belong to your grandfather.”  


“I’m sure.”  


As Roger put the ring back in the bag, a member of the catering staff came into the parlor to announced dinner and everyone smiled, the tense mood broken as Roger put the ring in the bag and the bag in his pocket as they all headed into the dining room.

Dinner had been a huge success, full of cheerful conversation and laughter and the caterers had out-done themselves. The party broke up, with Carolyn going back to Collinwood with her mother to talk about “baby stuff” that Will was more than willing to miss. Julia and Barnabas were sitting in the half-restored library, sharing a soothing cup of tea with Will, when Will suddenly said, “I feel so much better than I did before. Like a weight has lifted been off my shoulders.”  


Barnabas and Julia exchanged some married couple conversation without saying anything. “So do I,” said Julia, “Although I couldn’t tell you exactly why.”  


“I can, but you might think I’m crazy.”  


Barnabas lifted his tea cup in a mock toast to Will.”In this house, nothing seems crazy”  


“Okay.” Will took a deep breath and set his tea cup and saucer down. “The ring belongs to the man in the coffin. When I opened the coffin, he reached out and that ring was on his hand.”  


“What are you talking about?” asked Julia, leaning forward in full therapist mode.  


“For years,” said Will, “I have had this weird re-occurring nightmare. I am in a dark room and there is coffin wrapped in chains. I pry the chains off and lift up the lid and a hand comes out to grab me by the throat. That hand is wearing a ring with a big, black stone, just like one Barnabas showed us tonight.”  


“What did Dr. Klein think when you told him about the dream.”  


Will shook his head. “I never told my therapist. I’ve never told my wife. I’ve never told anyone before this.”  


“I’m not much of a dream interpreter,” said Julia, “But that is unusual. And I’ve had a strange dream, too. Of a man's hand, wearing that ring, resting on the head of an ornate cane. It doesn’t move, as if I were looking at a photograph." 

“Not a photograph,” said Barnabas. “A portrait. The ring is on the hand of a man in a portrait. I’ve never seen the face and I always sort of assumed it was my grandfather, but he never used a cane.” 

Will’s eye went wide. “A cane with silver wolf’s head for the handle.”  


All three exchanged nervous looks.  


“That’s the cane I saw,” said Julia as her husband nodded in agreement and took another sip of tea.  


“I think that’s enough for tonight,” said Will. “The sight of the ring scared me to death for some reason, but now I feel fine. Not bothered by Madame Delacroix or the fact that I know the layout of this house better than I should. I feel, like I said, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.”  


“I think we all feel that way.” Barnabas stood up, offering Julia a hand for her clasp as she rose. “And think we should just be grateful for it and leave it lie.”  


Will laughed. “Works for me. I should head back to Collinwood.”  


“You’re not driving back to Windcliff tonight?”  


“No, Julia. We’re staying overnight, and having brunch at the Inn before heading back. It was LIz’s idea and I thought it was a good one.”  


The three friends went into the foyer, chatting a bit about the weather and the upcoming social events appropriate to the holiday. At the door, Will put on his coat, zipping it close to his chin, and then pulled on the blue wool watch cap he still wore as a memento of his days in the merchant marine.  


“Good-night, Willie,” said Julia as she yawned.  


“What did you just call me?”  


Julia blinked in surprise although Barnabas answered. “She just called you Willie.”  


Will frowned. “Don’t do that again. I’ve don’t like that nickname.”  


“I was just tired, sorry. Good night, William Loomis, R.N., M.S.N.”  


“Good night, Julia Hoffman, M.D, Ph.D. Barnabas.”  


The door closed behind behind Will. He looked up at the night sky, the stars so close he could almost touch them, and then walked over to his car, whistling a Christmas tune, feeling far more cheerful than he thought he ever had before in his entire life.

 

 

 

September 2017

**Author's Note:**

> I had a million other notes it wasn't worth the effort for the half dozen people who might read it. Stuff to do with name choices and the Triangle Trade. If you're dying to know, just ask.  
> ETA: Did another proofread so there should be fewer egregious mistakes. If you see something, let me know.


End file.
